


for the sake of spring

by quernus



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: AR bc it didn't rain this january, M/M, also AR bc pls pretend Spring Gala line up is actually set ahead of time, real summary: layhan fuck when yixing's in town for spring gala 2017, the irony was yixing singing about sleeping and eating well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-17 03:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10585158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quernus/pseuds/quernus
Summary: The wisps of breeze that blew in through the open balcony door were chill and damp, even as they carried in the smell of cigarette smoke, so persistent in this city, in any city. "You're going to get sick," Yixing said. He looked out past Lu Han, at Beijing, brightly lit and setting the night sky aglow. The rain fell in a soft curtain in front of them, a hazy veil of light. And for a moment, with the curtain drawn about them, they allowed themselves an old habit, a memory, a memento of comfort. For a moment.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [kpopolymfics2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/kpopolymfics2017) collection. 



> This fic was written for K-Pop Olymfics 2017. Olymfics is a challenge in which participants write fics based on prompt sets and compete against other teams of writers, organized by genre. 
> 
> This is Team Canon’s fic for the following prompt set:  
>  **Taeyeon – "Rain"**  
> [lyrics](https://colorcodedlyrics.com/2016/02/taeyeon-taeyeon-rain%20%E2%80%A6) | [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHir_vB1RUI%20%E2%80%A6) | [supplementary](https://www.flickr.com/photos/65147323@N06/6782878171/%20%E2%80%A6) [prompts](http://67.media.tumblr.com/34a9967d55d7a34afc49ea7c3c8d1876/tumblr_oh9rqpKMCl1v9m0i0o1_500.jpg%20%E2%80%A6)
> 
> The other 2 fics for this prompt can be found in [the collection](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/kpopolymfics2017%20%E2%80%A6). Competition winners are chosen by the readers, so please rate this fic using [this survey](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSf9AgArev0G3LyY45skjKTTq8fmrguTOd9K7hX3GBFkxXrO5A/viewform?usp=sf_link)!

 

 

 

"I keep telling you, you don't have to knock," was Lu Han's greeting, and Yixing's lips quirked in a smile as he made his way through Lu Han's dark apartment to join him on the balcony, the door closing softly behind him. He tossed his coat onto a chair but pulled it back on as an afterthought—the wisps of breeze that blew in through the open balcony door were chill and damp, even as they carried in the smell of cigarette smoke, so persistent in this city, in any city.

"You're going to get sick," Yixing said. He looked out past Lu Han, at Beijing, brightly lit and setting the night sky aglow. The rain was coming down softly, just leaving the balcony itself dry although the floor was still damp, from when it had rained earlier in the day, Yixing supposed. He looked for the pair of slippers set just outside, only to find none. With a sigh, Yixing peeled off his socks. He didn't want to have wet socks.

The concrete was cold against his bare feet, and Yixing suppressed a small shiver.

"My grandma always said that the cold rises from the feet," Lu Han said as Yixing walked up next to where Lu Han was resting his arms on the railing.

"And whose fault is that?" Yixing said, a little short.

Lu Han's eyes, when he looked at Yixing, were laughing. Yixing sighed heavily.

"Here," Lu Han said, kicking off his own slippers.

"No," Yixing said. He shook his head. Lu Han gave him a sharp look, and reluctantly, Yixing set them right and stepped into them.

"It's winter," Lu Han said, as if Yixing didn't know, that it wasn't why he was still bundled into a thick jacket. "You can't afford to get sick."

"I've been sick before," Yixing said. He shrugged, leaned against the railing as well. It was better, when his feet were not bare against the concrete. It ought to have been snowing, Yixing supposed, and yet it was just warm enough that it came down as water, came down unfrozen.

"Yes, I suppose," Lu Han murmured quietly. "You're always sick. Always filming."

"And you're stressed," Yixing said.

Lu Han glanced at him, sharp, and then his expression melted into a half smile. He brought the cigarette up to his lips again, breathing light into the end.

"You're going to tell me it's bad for me?" Lu Han said, a quirk of his eyebrow. "That I'm ruining my voice?"

Yixing laughed, almost harsh. "You want me to?" he asked, eyes flashing. He shrugged, looked over his shoulder. "No, I'm just going to tell you to hurry up so we can go back inside."

"Ah, it is cold," Lu Han said. Yixing looked at him flatly, unimpressed. Yes, because Lu Han was wearing only a sweater, a pair of sweatpants, and now his feet were bare against wet concrete. Yes, it was cold.

And yet, Yixing kept him silent company as the rain fell in a soft curtain in front of them. Beijing was always bright, but cities were bright. Spending weeks in the heart of Shanghai had acquainted Yixing well with the constant haze of light, and here, in the heart of Beijing, it was no different. A kaleidoscope of people, all blending together until each was indistinguishable from the next—pick out one light only to look away, and it would be impossible to find again. Here, on the balcony, they would have only been one of a million other lights, had the lights been on. They were not on—they stood in the darkness, but for the faint glow of amber hovering by Lu Han's fingers, the incandescent hive a world below. It was familiar. It was a city.

And yet, Yixing's fingers tapped a little restlessly against the frigid metal of the railing as he stared out over the city, ignoring the way the light gave the rain a visible voice in the night sky. Beijing was different, always seemed different, always would be different. How much time he had spent here, and yet.

He looked at Lu Han beside him, at this man who Yixing had known when they were still boys, still children. It had always been Lu Han's habit, slipping out into the darkness, a small lighter tucked against his palm, never minding that Yixing would always follow him out. It was a habit Yixing had never picked up and through the years, it was a habit that even Lu Han had all but grown out of—his voice was too important now. Just as it'd become a habit for Yixing to chide him through those years on those few occasions, but even so, there were times when Yixing couldn't bring himself to do it.

That hadn't been true for some years now.

Perhaps it was because it was Beijing. Perhaps it was because this was Lu Han's city, and so could never be his own.

"You look like you're gonna drop dead any moment," Lu Han said. There was a lingering cloud of smoke in front of his face, and Yixing leaned over and blew a puff of air at it. Lu Han glanced at him, brows quirking in amusement as Yixing gave him a placid smile.

"Thanks," Yixing said drily. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Does wonders for the complexion," Lu Han said, almost an agreement, and Yixing couldn't help the quiet bark of laughter. Lu Han took a deep breath and then stepped away from the railing, meeting Yixing's eyes as he did so.

Yixing turned to head back inside, leaving the slippers by the door. Lu Han followed a moment later, leaving cigarette smoke curling up from the ashtray behind him.

It was so warm it was almost hot, once the door was shut. Yixing pressed his lips into a thin line as he stared flatly at Lu Han.

"You didn't have to come out," Lu Han said, amused.

Yixing mulled that thought over for a moment. He tossed his jacket onto the chair again, his socks disappearing under them. Perhaps.

"Perhaps," Yixing said.

Lu Han laughed, eyes bright even in the darkness.

"Can I turn on the light?" Yixing asked.

Lu Han shrugged, a shadow of a movement as he did so, and the living room flared into whiteness and stars in Yixing's eyes. He blinked, not surprised that Lu Han had already disappeared. Yixing followed Lu Han's invisible path into the bedroom, and here, the lights were again off and Yixing now blinked to again adjust them to sight. There were times that Yixing wondered if Lu Han did these things on purpose, but once, long ago, when Yixing had asked, Lu Han had only blinked with those wide eyes of his. "What are you talking about?" he'd said, a perfect impression of a soft deer.

Lu Han was not, and had never been, a soft deer.

He caught Yixing just inside the door, arms coming around Yixing's waist, hands pressing against his back and Yixing easily returned the gesture, Lu Han warm against him even as his sweater was cold. For a brief moment, Yixing did nothing but to breathe in Lu Han's familiar scent, drowned as it was in the smell of smoke, before he caught Lu Han's lips between his.

There was a touch at the back of his neck and Lu Han's hand was soft and Yixing let his eyes fall shut as they kissed, dark as the room was and little to see as there was. Nor did he need to, not with Lu Han sucking soft pressure at Yixing's lip, the touch gentle, light, and Yixing was the same. One could say it was as if it was their first time had their first time not been messy, sloppy, eagerness born from a near apprehension, desperation, too much energy locked under too much exhaustion. No, this was quiet and slow and yet still so young, even though the two themselves might not have thought it, old and weary as they themselves already felt, their lives turned as tumultuous and rough as that first time had been, as they'd each chased their dreams.

Just as it was Lu Han who had first pulled Yixing close, it was Lu Han who first drew away, and the light spilling in through the door was enough to see Lu Han's smile, soft and clear.

"Did you miss me?" Lu Han asked, voice playful even as it'd dropped low.

"Too busy to," Yixing said. It was the truth and Lu Han knew it, but even so he laughed, stepped away from Yixing, hand wrapped about Yixing's arm.

"You're supposed to lie and say yes," Lu Han said.

"And you're supposed to be too dumb to think that," Yixing retorted. He went easily, let Lu Han tug him down onto his bed, large and spacious, and a small space that nearly felt of something close to home in this too foreign city.

"Look who's talking," Lu Han said, a flash of irritation and then it was Yixing who laughed, a little rueful, his lips pursing slight in thought.

"C'mon—or didn't you say you were busy?" Lu Han said. The way the corner of his lip quirked could almost be called a smirk—Yixing twisted about, grabbed Lu Han by the shoulders, pushed him down onto the bed.

Lu Han's bangs fanned out over his forehead, soft and unstyled. Yixing pushed them back with one hand, but without his eyes lined thick with makeup, Lu Han still looked soft, young, cheeks round with a facsimile of baby fat that he'd shed long ago. He did not look like he did on stage when his hair was slicked up, when it was sex he was smouldering with, when he wanted to be hot, wanted to push out of this image that was at times so at odd with who he was—who he thought he was. Yixing smiled a little, brushed them back down until they just fringed at his eyes. Lu Han's eyes were steady as they met Yixing's, and Yixing dipped down, leaving a quick kiss against Lu Han's lips.

"It _is_ the New Year," Yixing said. He paused. "Almost. You said."

"Not that you've ever cared," Lu Han said. Yixing's lips quirked in irritation and then he was kissing Lu Han again, deep and rougher until they were both flushed.

"You said," Yixing said, voice low. "And I'm here, aren't I?"

"I almost thought you wouldn't," Lu Han said, and there was a flash of something in his words, on his face, that had Yixing rolling over, lying on his side next to Lu Han.

"You don't take breaks," Lu Han said to the ceiling. "You never have."

A pause, and then, "do you regret staying?"

Yixing almost thought to laugh, but something kept it hidden deep inside himself. The wind had picked up outside, and the rain fell against the window now. It would be soaking the balcony. It was good that they'd come inside. It was January, days before the new year, and it would have been freezing against their skin.

"Do you regret leaving?" Yixing asked.

There was too long a pause, before: "no."

"Me neither," Yixing said.

"Me leaving?"

"Me staying." He didn't feel like taking Lu Han's bait, not today, not tonight.

"Your own studio, your show, your album, your movies," Lu Han said softly, "and now the Spring Gala."

"You too," Yixing said, voice placid. "You have a studio, a show, you have movies, you have your albums, you have the Spring Gala. Both of us."

"And that's why you're here," Lu Han said, agreeing. "What are you filming now? I can't keep track."

"Operation Love. Proposal Daisakusen," Yixing said. "We watched it together."

"We did? I don't remember."

"We'll be done soon," Yixing said. A pause. "It's busy."

"Yes, you're busy," Lu Han said. "And you have EXO."

Yixing stiffened—and then there was Lu Han's hand about his wrist, his thumb stroking a placating touch against his skin.

"I only meant that you're busy. Too busy," Lu Han said.

"I know." Another pause. "You know that I don't care about the money. Or about being busy. So no, I don't regret staying. Just like how you don't regret leaving."

"I didn't mean to talk about this," Lu Han said softly.

"You were worried I was going to get sick, that I'm too tired, that I'm overworking, I know," Yixing said. He turned to look at Lu Han now, at his old friend. Friend. They had flirted with being something more, but they had never quite gotten there. Too busy. Always too busy.

Lu Han huffed, and his nose wrinkled cutely. "You wish."

"Don't pretend, Xiao Lu," Yixing said.

Lu Han's response was to roll onto Yixing, and his bangs fell over his eyes now.

"Are you going to kiss me?" Yixing asked, blinked.

For a moment, Lu Han's heart seemed to stutter in his chest. Yixing had always been straightforward. Easily embarrassed at times, slow at times, but straightforward, honest. How Yixing had grown up, though. This past year. Past two years. Past few years. Yixing's eyes were still bright, his lips were still in that near pout of his, sweet. Lu Han couldn't have known that moments earlier, Yixing's thoughts had wandered in the same direction, as Lu Han thought to the copy of Yixing's mini-album tucked into his bookshelf, thought to Yixing's hair styled up away from his face, his white shirt wet and chest bare as he'd lounged in the bathtub fully clothed, the way he'd looked at the camera then, like it was someone he'd wanted to fuck. Yixing didn't actually look like that, when there was someone he wanted to fuck. Or maybe it was just at Lu Han. No, even when his eyes grew sharp, when the sweetness slipped off his lips, Lu Han could still see the Yixing that had been on the photocard—soft light, bright smile, something untarnished by these past few years, by betrayal—and there were times when Lu Han felt a twinge of guilt for leaving Yixing alone, but Yixing had been the one to tell him to go, the one to say that there was no need for Lu Han to be unhappy when happiness was so easily within his reach. _The others will be upset_ , Yixing had said quietly, off-handedly, but regret had been too clear in his eyes. _But I won't_ , and the upset that he said he wouldn't have had been near palpable. Lu Han had called him an idiot then, and how long ago that was. Lu Han had kissed Yixing then, too, just like he did now.

It had not been raining that night, but it was raining now, and Lu Han shifted so his leg was between Yixing's, pressed down just enough to draw out a quiet sound and Lu Han nipped at Yixing's lip, pushed his tongue into Yixing's mouth, breathed in the damp heat of Yixing's breath. It had been raining that last night, but all they had done was lie side by side, one last night of something that could be called quiet normalcy before Lu Han would plunge into the abyss of change.

Maybe it was the rain, the winter rain, that had sent Lu Han's thoughts slipping down these threads of memory, but even in the dark, the tiredness that seemed to be perpetual in Yixing's eyes had been all too clear. He _had_ looked like he'd been about to drop dead earlier that day, when their paths had briefly crossed at the rehearsal, even in that brief nod of an exchange swallowed by people. Yixing hadn't even been coming to say hello to him. No, he'd been there to say hi to Chen Weiting, and in that moment, Lu Han had felt real irritation even though he knew that this was how it was to be, how it had to be, that there was only to be a cursory acknowledgement between them all, as if they hadn't spent years together as friends. And that in itself—there they were, the two of them: Lu Han as the lead for The Grave Robber Chronicles, Weiting as the lead for The Mystic Nine but Yixing had been just as well, almost. But Lu Han and Yixing, on stage together? No, that would never do. Not anymore. 

Yixing licked into his mouth and Lu Han caught Yixing's tongue between his teeth, sucked at it until Yixing was rutting up against him, soft sounds, whimpers, his hands fisted in Lu Han's shirt. When Lu Han pulled away, held himself up on his elbows, he met Yixing's eyes and yes, the sweetness was still there but it was no longer soft and innocent, and Lu Han felt his heart stutter again.

"Idiot," Lu Han said for good measure and Yixing laughed, a low chuckle.

"Am I?" Yixing asked, eyes flashing. In a breath it was Lu Han on his back and Yixing on top of him. Lu Han bit at his lip when Yixing palmed at his crotch, Lu Han's breath hitching, a near gasp, and Yixing kissed him. Heat ran under his skin, both of them, and Yixing's fingers were in Lu Han's hair, against his face, against his neck. Lu Han pushed Yixing away, almost gasping for breath and Yixing only laughed, kissed him again, but it was softer this time, quieter, and it trailed to a gentle one at the corner of Lu Han's mouth, and then down his jawline and Lu Han bit back a small cry when Yixing's mouth was hot and wet at the join of Lu Han's neck and shoulder.

"Shit—be careful," Lu Han gasped, even as he tangled his fingers in Yixing's hair and clutched him to himself.

"Always," Yixing's words flitted against Lu Han's skin, an almost cold touch where Yixing's mouth had been hot moments earlier.

Yixing caught the lobe of Lu Han's ear in his mouth, sucked at it until Lu Han was whimpering, was gripping at Yixing. The cold metal of his earring quickly grew warm in his mouth and he played at it with his tongue, the edges scraping rough. They'd done it together, that piercing, and Yixing let go of Lu Han's ear now, left a quick kiss against Lu Han's mouth.

"When did you do this?" Yixing asked, finger brushing against Lu Han's other ear, the small earring there.

"Few days ago," Lu Han said, and what little light there was sparkled in his eyes.

"Guess we no longer match," Yixing said, a small smile at the corner of his lips, just enough to pull out a single dimple and Lu Han's laugh was soft.

Yixing was gentle now, dropping to Lu Han's neck again, sucking softly, not enough to leave a bruise, a mark. They'd had practice, had learned long ago what would and wouldn't be allowed, had learned long before they would be scrutinised under the unforgiving nature of the camera lens. Yixing lapped at Lu Han's skin, knowing that Lu Han would arch up under him, would try to grind against Yixing, and Yixing took that, let him, because he liked the way Lu Han sounded in moments like this. But when Yixing kissed at the hollow of Lu Han's throat, Lu Han's neck bared to him, when he tried to kiss at the small space between Lu Han's collarbones, he couldn't tug Lu Han's sweater down far enough.

"Take this off," Yixing said. He tugged at Lu Han's sweater, sitting back onto his haunches.

Lu Han made a small sound of irritation but he did, sitting up so he could pull it over his head, toss it onto the floor. His t-shirt was caught inside, and he shook his hair back into place, his chest now bare. Yixing smiled, running a hand down Lu Han's chest, making him shiver and give Yixing a cross look, but that was all he had time for because Yixing was gripping at Lu Han's shoulders now, kissing him on the lips.

"Cute," Yixing said as he drew back just enough for the word to skim across Lu Han's wet lips, because he knew it would annoy Lu Han.

"Asshole," Lu Han said.

"Sure," Yixing said, like he didn't care, like he didn't like pulling this side of Lu Han out. But he had what he wanted, and he pushed Lu Han down again and Lu Han went easily. And why wouldn't he, when Yixing was kissing between Lu Han's collarbones now, and then lower, just low enough that it would disappear beneath a shirt. Tugged at Lu Han's skin with his teeth, worried at it even as he sucked a spot there that would take days to fade and they both knew it. It was Lu Han's turn to clutch at Yixing's shirt, his fingers tight in the fabric, and Yixing sucked harder. Lu Han could be loud, and he was loud now. There was no one to hear—he could be loud. It wasn't until after, after it all, the third, fourth, fifth time in hotel rooms when they'd coincided cities, when their habit of silence was finally worn thin and Yixing had learned, Lu Han could be loud. He licked and worried at that spot, again and again, until Lu Han's fingers were digging into Yixing himself and that would bruise, too.

Lu Han's breath was caught in his throat, wet and rough, tugged out as whimpers, as stuttered _ah_ s that were all too audible in his room. Yixing's lips trailed lower now, leaving air to rush cold against that one spot, and it was a long cry this time. He gripped at Yixing's shoulders, heat rushing down in anticipation. But first, it burned under his skin as Yixing took Lu Han's nipple between his lips and sucked at that too, and then lower until he was sitting back on his haunches and his mouth was at the jut of Lu Han's hip.

"Fuck, stop fucking around," Lu Han said, and Yixing laughed, the sound tickling against his skin. Lu Han gasped and then dug his fingers into Yixing's shoulder in retaliation, and Yixing bit down hard in retaliation, prompting Lu Han to cry out because that fucking hurt but he got the point, letting go, and Yixing lightened his bite as well, although his teeth lingered, scraping against where skin was thin on bone.

"You know, Lu, your problem is, you've always been too impatient," Yixing said, and Lu Han swore.

"Shut up," Lu Han snapped.

Yixing laughed but he did, licked a stripe up Lu Han's stomach, along the thin line of hair there that trailed down below the hem of Lu Han's sweatpants. Yixing tugged them down now, Lu Han lifting his hips off the bed so Yixing could. He wasted no time taking Lu Han's half-hard cock into his mouth—he'd scolded Lu Han for being impatient, but Yixing could be impatient at times, too. And fuck, Lu Han was familiar, smelled familiar, _tasted_ familiar even if it had been months.

Lu Han bit down hard at his lip, but couldn't bite back the cry that echoed in the silence left behind as Yixing swallowed around him, all at once, all hot and all pressure and all touch and Lu Han's fingers were digging into Yixing's shoulders but it wasn't because he was trying to be an ass, no it was because Yixing was being _unfair_ Lu Han hadn't had any warning and "fuck, fuck, _fuck_."

"Language," Yixing murmured softly about Lu Han's cock and the vibration sent blood straight down and tore another strangled curse through Lu Han's mouth. It had Yixing chuckling—Lu Han gripped at Yixing's hair, tight, too tight, and Lu Han knew just what he was doing. Yixing tried to pull off to snap at Lu Han but Lu Han held him down, hips bucking upwards, cock hitting the back of Yixing's throat. Yixing cursed, swallowed around Lu Han, dug his fingers into the soft part of Lu Han's thighs. The one place that no matter the concept of the shoot, nothing would ever show. Did it again, again.

"Xing—"

"Mmm," Yixing hummed, and Lu Han finally let go, fisted his hands in the sheets instead.

Lu Han's face was flushed in the half light, his lip caught between his teeth, strands of hair damp with sweat against his temples. How few people must have seen Lu Han like this—imagined, maybe, but not seen. Yixing counted himself privileged. But he looked young, he still looked young. Yixing knew Lu Han would look young, until suddenly he wasn't, but at this moment, if someone had introduced Lu Han to Yixing and they had yet to meet, and they had told him Lu Han was in high school, perhaps Yixing would have believed it. No, not at this very moment—high school would be too young to have Lu Han in front of him like this, legs spread, cock full and curving up to his stomach, chest bare. The bruise just under his collarbone was darkening, and Yixing reached out, traced against it.

"Are you gonna finish what you started?" Lu Han asked.

"I will," Yixing said, and Yixing had missed this as much as he'd missed everything else. He caught his lip between his teeth, met Lu Han's eyes evenly, curled his mouth in the hint of a smirk and watched Lu Han swallow, the corners of his mouth tightening. He could've gone on longer—once, Yixing had given Lu Han an entire treatise on the merits of Shanghai's street food in the middle of jerking him off while Lu Han had stared at him in a mix of irritation and disbelief. But not today, not tonight, not with the rain against the window, washing away the lingering dust of the city, washing away regrets.

Tonight, Yixing finally stripped off his own shirt so that when he lay against Lu Han, they were skin against skin and Yixing stayed like that for several long moments, chin tucked against Lu Han's shoulder, face buried in Lu Han's hair. It smelled of sweat, and Yixing brought his arms up against Lu Han's sides in a facsimile of a hug. A moment, and then there was Lu Han's hand resting light against his arm, and then there was Lu Han tipping up Yixing's chin so that he could catch his lips in a light kiss, still and slow, lingering. Lu Han's eyes were closed, lashes long, and Yixing closed his own eyes as he deepened the kiss.

But he had told Lu Han he'd finished what he'd started, and Yixing always kept his word when it was honestly given and so again he drew away, kisses trailing lightly down Lu Han's chest, each one feather light, the briefest of touches. He didn't take Lu Han's cock into his mouth immediately this time—instead, he left a kiss on the inside of Lu Han's thigh, where his fingers had dug into minutes earlier, an apology. Soft, lingering, and then Yixing sucked at it, hard. A choked curse and Yixing stifled a small giggle.

"Xing, you— _shit_ ," the last as Yixing did as Lu Han had asked, went back to finishing what he'd started.

Part of Yixing wanted to play, but the other part wanted to pull Lu Han with him as fast as he could, and it was this second want that Yixing gave into. Wet and sloppy noises filled the space about them, loud against Lu Han's gasped breaths and nothing more. Lu Han swallowed his cries even as Yixing swallowed about Lu Han's cock, as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked him off, as they both fell into forgotten memories of old habits.

The grip of Lu Han's hand on Yixing's shoulder was warning enough for Yixing to pull back, even if the way Lu Han's breathing had grown quick and short had not. Yixing sat up, sat back, took Lu Han's full cock in his hand so he could see the way Lu Han's eyes squeezed shut, the way his mouth fell open, the way Lu Han gave no voice to it at all except for the way he clutched at Yixing's arm as Yixing finished him off with a few quick strokes. Deft and practiced as much as he was out of practice, but maybe jerking off your friend was like riding a bike, one of those things you would never forget, just what made Lu Han feel good the most.

There was sometimes a moment, in times like these, when the rise and fall of Lu Han's chest slowed and gentled with his breathing, when tension seeped visibly out of Lu Han's shoulders, when his entire body fell lax—there was sometimes a moment when Yixing could feel content, could forget the world outside, the world behind them, the world ahead of them, could simply see Lu Han in front of him. His face had changed over the years, his skin had grown pale, the shape of his nose seemed to differ every few times Yixing saw him, and there was sometimes a moment when all those Lu Hans blended into one composite image, as if nothing had changed since the first time when Yixing had saw him. The prince that Yixing had once seen at the top of the stairs had turned false, but the unwieldy kid with the loud laugh had grown with him through the years until he had grown apart, and no, Yixing told himself, he was not upset.

_I do miss you_ , but the words stayed silent, hidden, as Yixing simply watched.

But a moment was merely a moment, and a moment would always pass, and Lu Han's eyes were open now and there was an unwitting smile on his face.

"Silly deer," Yixing said, himself fond.

"Stupid sheep," Lu Han said, and the stress that Yixing had known was there seemed to have dissipated somewhat, even if Yixing didn't know what it had been. Just like how Lu Han couldn't keep track of what Yixing was doing, Yixing never knew what Lu Han was doing, unless it was because people were speaking of Running Man and he knew that Lu Han was filming at least that. Hell, Yixing didn't even know what the rest of EXO were doing half the time.

Yixing lay down next to Lu Han, half on him, half off him, legs tangled.

"Did you wanna fuck?" Lu Han asked, eyes sleepy.

Yixing shook his head. "Maybe not today," he said.

"Pity," Lu Han said, and he sighed dramatically, pushing Yixing off as he stretched his arms above his head.

"You want to?" Yixing asked.

"Maybe later," Lu Han said, and they both knew that later wouldn't be tonight. Maybe next week, maybe next month, maybe not for months as they each dove into individual schedules, as Yixing started hopping from country to country days apart, as people would inevitably curse him every time he missed a concert, as people would inevitably tell him to quit EXO already, better sooner than later. It was Lu Han's thought, this one. Yixing was thinking only of how soft and quiet Lu Han always looked in rest, when he was still.

His fault, Lu Han supposed. In part.

They were distracting tonight, the memories. He could barely remember anymore what it was like to film music videos with eleven other people, could only seem to remember being on his own, laughing with foreign directors, being alone in front of the camera, with tens of people behind it, and none of them people who Lu Han had spent years of time with, day in day out. It must have been the rain. How many songs there must have been about memories carried by the rain, about grey days, about melancholy moments of loneliness and missed love. Lu Han didn't like dwelling on the past, didn't like the way they seemed to drag at him even when Lu Han had long since decided he had nothing to regret. But he was done for now, this round of music videos—that was how China worked, a music video for almost every song. That hadn't been how Korea worked.

"What're you thinking so hard about? Xiao Lu?"

About how you're stupid, about you, about the past, about "nothing," Lu Han said.

They had given him their blessing when he'd told him he'd be leaving, hadn't they—at least, some of them. Perhaps that'd been more than he could've asked for. He'd had no reason to count on anyone's voiced support after everything, and yet, he had had it.

"Don't lie," Yixing said, and there was a hint of a reprimand in it, just enough to make Lu Han laugh.

"You can't talk," Lu Han said. He rolled onto his side now, turned Yixing to face him with a hand at the back of his head so Lu Han could kiss him. There was a small jerk of surprise before Yixing let him, and Lu Han had always liked kissing Yixing, and not only because his lips were soft and so very kissable. They'd had that night before they'd gone to perform for the Network Spring Gala, years ago now, and Lu Han had stolen a quick kiss from Yixing in the empty car and Yixing had paled, pushed him away—no, there had been that night before they'd gone to perform for the Network Spring Gala, and they'd still been EXO-M, and Lu Han had been sharing a room with Minseok and Yixing had been sharing a room with Jongdae and the two of them had slipped into Yixing's room when Jongdae had been out, and rivulets of water had run down Yixing's face as they'd kissed in the shower, letting the sound wash away the remnants of their own.

He kissed Yixing again, and then again, and then he climbed onto Yixing, straddled him.

"I thought you said, later?" Yixing said, and he blinked at Lu Han, a little slow, a little dazed, a little too much like a dumb sheep and Lu Han laughed, loud and unruly.

"Who said I was going to?" Lu Han asked, but he had been thinking of it, maybe. He didn't, though—just leaned down so he could kiss him again, cup Yixing's face in his palm, listen to the rain striking the window, running down the glass in rivulets.

He reached down, shifted to the side, so he could palm at Yixing's cock through his jeans, half-hard and tented, and he knew that Yixing would've been content to leave it at that. Sometimes, Lu Han let him, but tonight was not one of those times. Yixing gasped sharply into his mouth at the touch, and Lu Han did it again, and then again, and then Yixing's fingers had found Lu Han's wrist, curled about it. Lu Han pulled up a little, frowned down at Yixing, but Yixing only shook his head, brought Lu Han's hand up to the top of his jeans and Lu Han understood. He had to sit back to undo the button—he'd never gotten the knack of doing it with one hand, not like Yixing had, and he didn't feel like fumbling for it tonight. It was easier like this, wrapping his fingers around Yixing's cock. Yixing's eyes closed, his lips parted and a small sound slipped out. Lu Han rubbed his thumb at the head of Yixing's cock and Yixing's head arched back as he gasped, as he thrust up into Lu Han's touch, and he'd always been good at that, that thing with the hips, good at fucking.

Lu Han let him do that for a bit, fuck up into his hand, and then he was on top of Yixing again, weight heavy, arm across Yixing's chest. Yixing's eyes opened, lids heavy, tired lines about them—Lu Han pushed the last thought from his mind, kissed him instead, Yixing's eyes disappearing from view.

It was moments later that Yixing was coming in his hand, and they both could've made this last longer but that wasn't what they were here for, not tonight.

"Thanks," Yixing murmured, several long minutes of the two of them lying like that, Lu Han part on top of him, the both of them sticky with sweat and come. Lu Han scoffed, shook his head, even with his face pressed against the bed.

"I mean for asking me over," Yixing said to the ceiling. It didn't seem so dark now, the room. "Even when you thought I wouldn't come."

"I do every time, don't I?" Lu Han said. "If I know you're around. If you tell me."

"You should've said, that time you were in Korea," Yixing said.

"That—I thought you were in China," Lu Han said. "And don't you still—"

"Live in the dorms? Yes, I suppose you could say that. I don't spend very much time there now."

"Sleeping here tonight?"

"I'll need your shower in the morning," Yixing said. He paused. "You still smell like smoke."

"Yeah," Lu Han said, a small apology hidden there.

"I'll see you soon," Yixing said.

"At the Gala you mean?"

"Mm."

"Barely—too many people, too busy." 

"I know that," Yixing said, and it was a little curt, and Yixing hadn't meant it to be so curt. He ran a hand down Lu Han's back, his skin warm and still faintly damp, and it was true, the smell of cigarette smoke seemed to cling to him, linger in his hair. Yixing's eyes closed, were closed, and he breathed it in and for a moment—one of those moments—they were young again, young and full of dreams, of fear of failure, of the ignorance of how numbered such days would be. For a moment, he wasn't successful and Lu Han wasn't successful; for a moment, he would wake up in the morning crushed against Lu Han in a too small bed; for a moment, he would not step out to a world where fortune had smiled down on him and he couldn't not grab each and every opportunity, no matter how little time he had left for each one.

For a moment, as the rain drew a curtain about them like it had about the balcony, as the world faded beyond its shimmering haze even as they were enveloped by it—for a moment, they each lingered in the familiarity of memories better left behind, lingered in the heavy comfort of warmth, a memento of the past. For a moment, they fell asleep forgetting that they would wake to a world washed bare, to a world where their paths had sharply diverged, and to a world where these nights had already dispersed like smoke.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this fic was written for olymfics 2017, the other 2 fics for this prompt can be found in [the collection](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/kpopolymfics2017%20%E2%80%A6), and [the survey](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSf9AgArev0G3LyY45skjKTTq8fmrguTOd9K7hX3GBFkxXrO5A/viewform?usp=sf_link) is here!


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